Chapter 6.
During planning we discussed possible scenarios for his capture, the guy clearly carried a weapon and as an arms dealer we had to assume he was a decent shot too. We agreed that spiders would work best, our own risk level would be low but not zero. David suggested jumping a spider off a tree limb when Marco rode by directly below. He said his eyes would be on the water trough but not in the trees. I asked how hard it would be to time the jump and he said it would require some practice. We might be able to write a software routine and have the spider manage timing the jump. In fact we might be able to gas Marco with the spider hung from the underside of a tree limb and Marco would ride straight through an invisible gas cloud.
Our camera nearest their water well gave us data that proved to be valuable. Because it photographed a wide angle we saw the entire area around the well including the trees and the trails. From what we saw their horses were trained to follow trails, if you set one outside without any riding gear and smacked it on the ass it would run off but stay on the trail and return to the starting point in 2-3 hours, like it did every day, twice a day.
Within a few days we had all the remaining images from the drone. It returned to the AFB and landed perfectly without human intervention. We received an average of forty images from each of the five cameras every day too, most of the pictures were tourists on horses and some wild animals that lived in the area, there was even some kind of mountain lion that drank from the well at night.
We saw lots of coyotes, fox, and wild pigs. The burn spot never changed and we never saw anyone behind the buildings on foot, only on horseback.
We looked at every picture and marked the ones with the guy wearing the white cowboy hat, he was our target. We ended up with 708 pictures of him and used the time and date stamp to put them back into sequence to build a timeline. That produced a daily activity schedule so we knew where he'd be and when and on what day. It was that sheet of paper that created our plans for our next trip into Mexico. Our plan was to grab him near the well and do it quickly and quietly. We also had to avoid spooking his horse. We spent two more days developing a plan we both agreed to. Over three days we narrowed the list down to two similar plans: 1. Two spiders on tree limbs above the trail that would emit gas seconds ahead of his arrival in the clearing, or, 2. One spider would run up the horse's leg at the water trough and gas him while the horse drank. The final vote was in favor of plan #1.
What we still disagreed on was the choice of toxic gas or sleep gas. David wanted to sleep him and carry him out of the area quickly. I wanted to gas him to reduce the chances of things going wrong and having to cut off his hands while he was awake.
Because of the money involved and the sensitive nature of what we were doing we kept the plan specifics to ourselves, and didn't even update our boss but we told him we were home working on the plan and it should be finished soon. That meant if we got there and found guards or a change in routines that our office was not secure. We had no reason not to trust them, but we didn't yet know our office staff very well.
We also made two trips to WSMR to rehearse part of our mission. They had a recreation area with shade trees, we made a Trojan horse and rider out of cardboard boxes. What we learned after hours of practice that having the spider release the gas when it saw the rider was a problem so we stuck with manual control. We'd be able to see him coming on the spider cams, which was our best signal to trigger the gas.
One of the engineers that knew the spider software wrote a command sequences for us, if the gas releases didn't work both spiders would run down the tree and follow the horse, climb it's back leg and reach the neck then fire the 2nd gas pellet. We weren't sure if the horse would sleep or not because they required a much bigger dose than a human.
The software guy wrote different commands for us to use so we had that part ready. Control-A triggered a command to climb a lower limb and watch down the trail.
Control-B on our keypads made it drop to the ground and chase the horse and once in position to use the 2nd gas pellets.
After three days at the range we finally we had a plan-A and a fallback plan-b completed and programmed into my three spiders. I was already feeling some mild anxiety about what we were about to do.
We agreed the horse would drink for about ten to fifteen seconds, after six seconds of drinking if he didn't collapse we'd send them the command Control-B on our keypad. When we arrived we'd set spiders on two trees beside the trail then move back to our hiding spot and wait for Marco to approach, watching via the spidercams directly to our glasses. One spidercam on each glasses lens.
We decided not to go to Mexico over the weekend, we'd wait until Monday morning. There were no holidays or other events that would alter the flow of tourists to the recreation sites that were scattered all around the mountains, it was just another business day. We had every reason to believe the ranch would be operating the same as we saw in the photos.
On Sunday one of our nature cams quit sending photos, it died a little early but not abnormal. It meant that within the next 72 hours all the cams would run out of battery power and eventually destroy themselves. It probably took a lot of photos and ran out of battery power early. The photos we saw indicated the water trough was also a very popular place for the wild animals after the sun went down.
For this mission we rented an SUV at the airport and put an ice chest in back loaded with twenty pounds of ice cubes. We also put in four bottles of Gatorade and a few individually wrapped slices of watermelon, that was David's idea. We left home at 3:15am, crossed the border at 4:45am and arrived at the stone chapel La Hermita, parked and paid. The dirt road from the highway up to the chapel was winding, steep, and poorly marked. At La Hermita they had no electricity or water. The only facility they had was a poorly constructed outhouse but no toilet paper. The church was free to see but they charged to park.
Like last time we left heading east, going uphill on a trail. We wore typical tourist hiking clothes. In the backpack I carried pocket knives, four plastic zipper bags (2-quart, 2-gallon), one 22cal Derringer style pistol with two bird shot rounds (for snakes), GPS and extra batteries, our glasses, lock picking tools, rope, frozen blue-ice packs, two forearm terminals from our Batsuits, and three spiders (boxed) with two pellets each (sleep and kill), and two Gatorade bottles.
Our plan was to place spiders on two trees with limbs that hung low above the trail then we'd get into our hiding spot and watch spider cams on our glasses; watching for the lone rider with the white cowboy hat to approach, then release both sleep gas pellets. When the line of riders went past we'd insert our nasal filters and get ready to carry his lard ass to the fence, then to the cluster of large boulders about 120 feet beyond the fence. We decided to set him on the ground and lift the bottom wire barbed wire and roll him underneath, then carry him to the kill spot.
We turned off Highway-2 for the site and parked at the stone chapel as the sun was about to peak over the mountains.
We got across a little faster this time since we didn't have to stop to check the GPS at every fork in the trail, we already knew the way. Luckily we never saw anyone else in the area, it was just us hiking east towards the horse ranch valley.
At 8:45am we saw the vineyard in the distance down in the valley. We stopped and talked for a moment; we were both panting but felt good. We drank some Gatorade and peed on the cactus then started jogging down the trail again. We whispered a couple times as we neared the edge of the ranch when we saw other places where we might be able to sample `Marco,' or whatever his name was.
David reminded me that the harder it was to find his body the more time we'd have to get across the border. He suspected that they knew the nearest place someone could park and hike to the ranch was that historical chapel place so it might be the first place they checked, asking the workers if anyone hiked across the mountains to the east and if so what did their vehicle look like. For all we knew they took pictures too, but it was unlikely.
At 9:18 we reached the fence and stopped to check the timeline. The line of tourists rode past (in the same direction) around 9:30-9:40 each day. About ten minutes later Marco normally rode by on his horse. Well trained trail riding horses were known for following in the hoof prints of the lead horse. Because of that we were certain to be able to ambush him and he'd be in nearly the exact same spot day after day. We placed two spiders and went back to our hiding spot behind a large boulder eighty feet north of the well. We checked the wind, it was blowing gently down hill (to the east) as expected; the invisible gas should linger in the perfect spot to hit rider's face, and possibly his horse too.
Our plan was for us to watch for him to fall off the horse up to six seconds after he passed beneath the second spider. If the horse was hit too it would wake up then continue to follow the trail and return riderless to the main building in 2-3 hours. If something went wrong we'd retrieve the spiders and go home and figure out what failed.
When the horse returned (riderless) to the main house it would look like the old guy fell off and they would grab fresh horse(s) and go in search of the missing man to bring him back. Their expected response (to the riderless brown horse) would create enough additional delay for us to make it back across the mountains to our vehicle. David thought that once we got in the car and made it down to Highway-2 we were probably safe. It would be difficult for them to identify and stop us on the highway.
If the gas failed and Marco didn't seem to notice anything then we might try again later in the day.
I told David if we pulled this off I'd milk him three times that evening. He told me to get my right hand ready because he was confident our plan would work.
Just like we practiced, about ten minutes after the group of riders went by we heard the sound of a single horse on the trail approaching slowly. We saw the old guy, maybe late 50s, with a beer belly, jeans, and a white cowboy hat with a dark brown string around the brim approach. His horse flipped its head around and snorted when it smelled us, but the body language was lost on Marco.
As soon as he was fifteen seconds from the first spider we triggered both spiders to start the sleep gas.
While we watched him approach David whispered to me that with the wind blowing away from the well we could have used kill gas; we would have been upwind from the spiders as long as the wind never varied.
After he rode past the second spider we peeked around the boulder and saw Marco reach up and rub his eyes, shake his head, then he leaned forward and fell off the horse (the horse continued to the water and started drinking). With filters in our noses we ran towards him, about eighty feet from the well. David handed me his forearm terminal as we ran across the clearing, I saw his horse at the trough drinking water and suddenly it sat down then fell over on its side beside the well. That told me Marco got a big dose, maybe a double dose.
We rolled Marco over and up to a sitting position and lifted him by his arm pits and knees and carried him to the perimeter fence. We set him on the ground next to the wire fence, David pulled up hard on the bottom wire while I was on my knees and rolled Marco under the wire, then we crossed, picked him up again, and carried him about 130 feet further to a group of boulders for his surgery appointment.
We set him down in a seated position against a large granite boulder, David pulled Marco's revolver and tossed as far as he could. David checked the pulse on his wrist and neck, and said he was alive and his heart was beating fast. I handed him a pocket knife while he put gloves on then carefully sliced the right side of his neck. While he gushed blood (down his arm and chest) I set a flat rock on his thighs and placed his left arm on top of it. I held the forearm and hand (like we were shaking hands) while he cut through his wrist joint, it only took about twenty seconds but we could tell his heart had just stopped because the river of hot blood slowed to a trickle down his chest.
Suddenly I had Marco's left hand in my hand and held it in the air so it would run out of blood.
David opened a quart size zipper bag while I carefully lowered the hand inside and sealed the bag while David switched arms, put his right arm on the rock.
After several seconds we were ready to cut off the other hand, his right. I held his hand like we were shaking hands and gripped his forearm with my other hand. David held his forearm steady and cut though the wrist joint with the knife. It took about 25 seconds to sever his hand from the forearm. I held the hand in the air while he opened the other quart bag and I slowly lowered the hand inside.
Then I put both quart bags inside a gallon bag and dropped in the two blue ice packs and put all that inside the other gallon bag and stuffed it in my backpack.
We folded his arms over his chest like an Egyptian Pharaoh so the bloody stumps could be seen in the photos. He was a bloody mess and he was starting to stink like farts too.
We looked at his eyes and saw they no longer reacted to sunlight. David threw the knife far into the desert after he took about ten photos of Marco, his face all gray and lifeless, his lips were pale and he had an expressionless look, his eyes were frozen open staring at his boots. We checked for a pulse again then checked the area for stuff we might have dropped, and just to be certain I sent both spiders the `return to me' command. It was now 10:22am. So far our plan had worked flawlessly.
Next step was to run back to the well. I stopped to wash the blood off my hands (the horse was still on the ground but its eyes were open and looking around), then we ran to the large stone building with the decoy roof, I quickly picked the padlock (thank you Seal training for that skill) and found three young women inside and opened their cells. We stood inside near the door and told them (in Spanish) to walk southeast towards the highway, stay away from the big house and anyone in a vehicle or on a horse until they got to the highway, about two miles away. We told them to move quietly and stay low or they might be recaptured and tortured. They took off running towards the southeast, we ran the other direction.
All of them were in tears and looked frightened but two of them kissed David as we all left.
We ran back to the well (by then Marco's horse was up and gone). I picked up the white cowboy hat then we ran to the fence. We stopped at the boulders for one last check, I dropped his hat on his lap, then we ran back to the trail and started the nearly three hour hike across the mountains.
We made it back to the chapel and our rental SUV at 1:05pm (three hours). Along the way we stopped briefly for Gatorade, I set the spiders on a rock and enabled self destruct mode and put the arm terminals in my backpack and we took off running towards the SUV about a mile further west of us. It was during that last mile of trail and while driving down to the highway that we were the most at risk. By my estimate they would see the riderless horse about forty minutes before we got back to the SUV.
The two things we didn't want to hear coming from the direction of the horse ranch were a dirt bike engine or guns shots. Both of those would be extremely bad signs.
At the SUV I set the backpack beside the ice chest and pulled out the bags and put them in the cooler under ice since they were our ticket to a million in cash. I moved the plastic wrapped slices of watermelon so they sat on top of the ice.
I got in the driver's seat and cranked the motor as David got in and we carefully drove down to Highway-2. It would take us at least an hour to reach the border and depending on traffic it might take us 10-50 minutes waiting in line to enter the US. We didn't talk much because we were both scared, I wouldn't call the mission complete until we were back on the northeast side of El Paso. The border facility was actually in the USA so once we got in line at the border station we were already out of Mexico and a lot safer, but not home free.
Although we had immunity, getting caught entering the US with severed human hands in the back would be difficult to explain without escalating the entire situation by calling for help from the Pentagon.
While we sat in the line of cars waiting to cross I noticed most of my fingernails had dried blood around the edges and under my nails. I showed it to David and he showed me his hands were clean because he had worn gloves.
Our goal when crossing was to appear nonchalant and drive across like any other tourist, I think having a rental car license plate might have increased the odds of them searching the SUV but I felt they were not likely to suspect anything. When we were the next vehicle in the line David told me the reason for the watermelon was to disguise any traces of blood in the ice. I laughed as the agent waved us to move forward.
I must admit I was more than a little scared when we stopped in the line of cars at the border crossing, however it looked like the Border Agent on our line was letting everyone through with minimal scrutiny. They used a plate reader that identified every car before it approached the inspector so he could look at his display and our licenses for a match. Of course ours would show up as a rental. I always heard the border people relied a lot on gut feelings and body language to decide who to check in depth and who to wave through. There were body language signs they watched for.
"Good day, what's your nationality?" He asked.
"We're Americans, hikin the mountains like the other idiots." I handed him both driver's licenses. He typed the numbers into his terminal and paused to read each screen, then he compared us to our license photos and handed them back.
The border guard laughed and was about to speak, I told him we never crossed in our own car, we always drove a rental into Mexico, "Why risk it?"
"Ahhh, we see a lot of rentals here for that very reason. You folks bringing anything back?"
"Nope, just what we crossed with and some water."
Then he gestured for me to move on, so I smiled, started the motor, and slowly drove forward. My heart was pounding hard and I had sweat dripping down my ribs. I whispered to David that after the CBP guy read his screen I thought he looked at us oddly. David said he didn't care as long as it worked.
It's kind of a long boring drive across the desert from the border station north about eight miles then east about seven miles to I-10, then north to Hwy-375 (Transmountain Road) which crossed the mountains to the east side, then south to our office.
"You notice the desert here is just bare sand, which isn't normal for the Chihuahua Desert?" David asked.
"Yeah, I noticed that, it looks unnatural."
"I think they bulldozed it in case someone ran from the border crossing building they had no place to hide." He suggested, but it made sense.
It took us almost two hours to get back near Fort Bliss. David called the office to report success and asked what we should do with the evidence and he was told to bring it in but make sure it was under lots of ice, the OD said he'd call Interpol right now. So we stopped at a gas station on Railroad Drive and bought another bag of ice and drained the water. I wanted to eat a slice of watermelon but knowing what was beneath them spoiled my appetite. We dropped them in the trash.
All we needed to qualify for the reward was evidence of the killing, which was caught with photos we took on David's cell, but the main evidence was we had his hands which would blood match, DNA match, and ten fingerprint matches with his records from previous arrests and time in prison in Europe. The camera we mounted on a tree near the well likely took images of our mission, those shots would be in the camera until they were successfully sent, so we watched for them to arrive knowing they were then erased, and that camera would soon destroy itself.
Since this was an Interpol thing they would send someone to take the evidence to get tested (in the USA). David said it would take a few days to positively identify they were the `right' hands. It bothered me there was a small chance we got the wrong guy. If that happened I'd gladly give my half of our next reward to his widow, but we researched him and were positive we got the right dude, and there was no widow. In the shots David took after we removed his hands Marco still had the same facial scars as in the wanted photos of him from ten years ago in Italy.
"Why didn't he have a wife?" I asked.
"Wasn't he was accused of killing her too."
"Huh, I wonder why?" I mumbled.
After a few seconds of quiet he softly said, "Bitch had it comin."
We both chuckled because we only used that line because it sounded funny for some strange reason. I knew he never meant it.
After we got home and quickly showered we ordered delivery pizza. David had started to cheer up after our unpleasant trip to Mexico, but Marco was a bad mofo that dealt death on a lot of innocent people in Mexico and across Europe and Africa.
I looked at my watch, it was 5:10pm and they quoted delivery time of 5:55pm. We'd already showered briefly, he was on the sofa in shorts and a t-shirt looking at the TV channel listing for the few channels we favorited to see if anything decent was on. I walked up to the sofa and lifted one end of the coffee table and moved it away, he leaned over so he could see the list scrolling up the screen.
I got on my knees in front of his legs and grabbed his shorts and pulled 'em down, with both eyes on the screen he raised off the cushion to make it easier. I slid them down to his ankles then held his limp dick and sort of lowered my upper body on his thighs while I played with it.
Little David responded quickly and started to grow, eventually I took him in my mouth. It took just a few moments before he muted the TV and started to relax and produce salty droplet rewards for me. Within five minutes he slid lower so I could easily take his entire length inside my mouth.
David pulled a small pillow next to his thigh so I could relax there with him in my mouth, then we stopped moving and just enjoyed him. David slid his fingers into my hair and the other hand on my arm. We stayed in that position for about ten minutes, he reminded me we had a pizza coming in 25 minutes. I rose up and he started to stroke his dick with the head securely vacuum sealed inside my mouth. David mumbled, "Coming," and moments later he squirted in my mouth, I relaxed and swallowed a few times. I felt him start to shrink but suddenly he began to stand up and raise his shorts while I was on the floor at his feet, "Pizza's here," he said softly and walked towards the front door. I went to the kitchen and drank some water while he tipped the delivery guy, with an obvious bulge and wet spot on his shorts!
He set the big box on the table while I grabbed forks, a roll of paper towels, salt, crushed red peppers, and two beers.
After three pizza slices each and two beers I blew him in the chair at the table exactly the same as on the sofa, and again in the shower (on my knees) that night.
For my taste buds our dinner was the holy trinity: pan crust pizza with sausage, pepperoni, and cheese, with several cold bottles of Coors, and for desert my husband's boner. There was not much I enjoyed more than his dick in my mouth, I loved the way it felt, the waves of salty precome, and I loved the way he moaned when I worked him just right. It's too bad I couldn't do that for a living because I certainly would. I also regularly told him how much I loved sucking his dick and how pretty it was.
Three days later our boss showed us a newspaper story on LeSoir.be and translated into English; that a wanted fugitive, an international criminal wanted across the EU was dead, his body was found in a trash dumpster behind a bar in downtown Juarez Mexico. We both theorized it was the ranch people trying to hide their security screw-up. There was no mention of the women we freed. Since that place had a history of kidnapping and murder we decided some day to go back there and burn it to the ground.
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